


Everything But the Kitchen Sink

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Morning Sex, Sassy Jaskier, Scenting, aka canon, for my leslie, possessive geralt, witcher Geralt/musician Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: Geralt comes downstairs to find Jaskier in the kitchen wearing his shirt, which makes it very hard for Geralt to keep his hands off of him. Luckily, he doesn't have to.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 721
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	Everything But the Kitchen Sink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesofshinigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/gifts).



> Inspired by this artwork, and the ensuing discussion I had with my bff Leslie about posessive!Geralt and how we both love that more than life.
> 
> https://astouract.tumblr.com/post/616890861843873792/modern-au-jask-and-geralt-there-are-4-witcher?fbclid=IwAR2VZOELsQB7kAdJ5NCNugaq9D_ND4R3XNwWKN3MGgc8fz6meLDF1e7sV74

If Jaskier only knew what went through Geralt’s head when he walked downstairs and saw him there, he’d never let the wolf hear the end of it. 

Geralt can’t help his reaction. Jaskier is there at the kitchen sink, all lit up in shades of pink and gold from the morning sun. He’s got a mug of tea in one hand, freshly made from the look of the steam curling off of it. His hair is mussed and his skin pink from sleep, and he’s  _ wearing Geralt’s shirt. _

It’s the purple one Geralt had worn last night at Jaskier’s request, because Jaskier was insistent that date night deserved something more special than his usual ensemble of black on black on black. It had felt weird for Geralt to put on, but it had been more than worth it to see Jaskier’s eyes raking over him approvingly. It looks even better on Jaskier, standing out against the cream of his skin in a way that’s downright decadent.

It’s also the only thing Jaskier has on.

Either Geralt is exceptionally stealthy today or Jaskier is still mostly asleep, because he doesn’t notice Geralt’s approach until arms wrap around his waist and there’s a witcher draped across his back. “Good morning, handsome,” he mumbles, leaning his head back on Geralt’s shoulder. He’s used to Geralt enough to not be offended when all he gets is a grunt in reply. “Want some tea? Water in the kettle’s still hot.”

“No.” Geralt pressed his palms to Jaskier’s tummy through the silky shirt and nuzzles into his hair to inhale deeply. He smells like wood glue and whiskey, the usual signature scent of his partner, and like the sex they had last night. He also smells strongly of Geralt himself, his scent wrapped in Geralt’s own. The shirt has effectively marked Jaskier as belonging to Geralt, even if no one without a witcher’s sensitive nose would be able to detect it.

A rush of mingled adoration and possessiveness runs through Geralt, and he knows Jaskier would laugh if he knew, but Geralt is helpless. He’s always helpless, when it comes to Jaskier.

“Some breakfast, then? Not that I’m cooking you anything, but I think there are some poptarts in the pantry if you--  _ oh!”  _ Jaskier’s sass is cut off in a surprised gasp as Geralt’s hands shift, one firm and steady on Jaskier’s hip and the other sliding down Jaskier’s thigh until he can slip his hand beneath the hem of the shirt and find Jaskier’s cock. “Yeah, alright. Good morning to me, too, then.”

“You smell good,” Geralt offers as explanation, nosing at the collar of his shirt where it conceals the curve of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier’s skin is warm beneath Geralt’s lips, and he hums approvingly and strokes Jaskier’s cock again.

“I smell like I’m overdue for a shower,” Jaskier laughs breathily. “Since my boyfriend is an  _ animal _ and won’t let me leave bed after he finishes fucking me for the third time”

Jaskier’s trying to make fun of him, Geralt knows, but the reminder of the night before only serves to rile him up more. He bites down on Jaskier’s shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to make Jaskier whine. He continues playing with Jaskier’s cock as he does so, enjoying the feel of him hardening in Geralt’s grip. “You’re lucky I let you leave my bed at all.”

“Yes, I’ll count my blessings,” Jaskier pants. “I would be tied to the bed at the top of some tall tower, beholden to none but my captor, if not for the mercy of Geralt of Rivia.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” It’s halfway to a genuine threat, but Jaskier laughs and tries to turn towards him anyways. Geralt stops him with a firm hand on his hip and Jaskier gives up the struggle immediately. He knows better than to argue when Geralt puts him where he’s wanted, and that knowledge makes Geralt growl in approval. “Like you in my clothes.”

“Step up your fashion game and maybe I’d do it more often,” Jaskier retorts, but he isn’t as scathing as he probably wants to be considering that he’s gone all but limp in Geralt’s grasp, his body shifting with each tug Geralt gives his cock. “Which, you know, that’s a win for both of us.”

Geralt just hums noncommittally. He has to shift to get a better grip on Jaskier, who’s a hair’s breadth away from his knees giving out and being dependent on Geralt to hold him up. Tea is starting to dribble out of his cup and into the sink, Jaskier’s hold on the handle getting more and more lax as Geralt apparently drives him to distraction. Geralt releases Jaskier’s cock to pluck the mug from his grasp and set it safely on the counter, lest his partner ruin his own orgasm by complaining about a broken mug.

It won’t be long now, Jaskier’s breathing quick and shallow, his cock leaking as Geralt works it faster. “I don’t have your Witcher prowess, you know,” he groans into Geralt’s jaw, head thrown back against Geralt’s shoulder and knuckles white on the edge of the sink. “If you keep wringing orgasms out of me, one of these days you’re going to break me.”

“Go on, then, break,” Geralt chuckles, baring his throat to Jaskier in a gesture more intimate than the human could ever understand. “I’ll sort you out like I always do.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, probably to argue as usual about how he is  _ not _ a damsel in need of saving, but the words get lost as he suddenly comes, Geralt’s palm coated in slickness as Jaskier’s cock pulses in his grip. As expected, Jaskier’s knees give out a second later, and Geralt is left to press him tight against his chest and keep him there as Geralt growls his appreciation.

“An animal,” Jaskier accuses when words return to him a few breathless moments later, and this time Geralt lets him turn around so that he can run his eyes over Jaskier’s form. He has to snap his fingers in front of Geralt’s eyes to get him to look up from the dark purple wet spot on the front of Jaskier’s --Geralt’s-- shirt, which he must have been staring at just a little too long. “Yoo-hoo, earth to witcher. You gonna let me return the favor, or not?”

“No thanks,” Geralt replies with a kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Breakfast first. Then we can talk about dessert.”

If Jaskier knew half of the things that went through Geralt’s head, he’d never stop laughing. Not that Geralt would mind that much. He kind of likes the sound.


End file.
